


The Heart of Jericho

by TipsyEpsy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Horror, Canon Rewrite, Disturbing Themes, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 13:43:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18966424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TipsyEpsy/pseuds/TipsyEpsy
Summary: After being shot on November 5th, 2038, Markus endures two years in the android junkyard.In 2040, after hearing hopeful tales about it from an old dying android, Markus finally leaves in search of the mythical Jericho.What he finds when he reaches the old freighter, is nothing he could have ever imagined however...





	The Heart of Jericho

    Ferndale hadn’t exactly been what Markus had been expecting to find after he’d followed the instructions he was given by old Phileas, but he knew through Carl's many teachings that one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover alone, especially without taking a look at the hidden contents within. The dock was surely just another step in his endless quest of searching for a safe haven. Someplace where he could truly belong as a thinking, feeling person.

 

    There had been a lot he’d learned during the year he’d spent surviving in the junkyard. One of the most important lessons being that, even the most unassuming of locations could hide bountiful rewards, just as much as they could conceal terrible dangers as well.

In the junkyard he’d been forced to scavenge, just like many other lost souls that had wound up there to rot, after being discarded by their careless masters. He knew how unfair things could be when subjected to something as primal as the law of the proverbial jungle.

Most androids who ended up in that situation either didn’t survive the ordeal or worse yet: Fully submitted to the will of that man-made hell, becoming like creatures one would find in either a horror novel or movie.

Others, like himself, managed to put themselves back together and keep relatively sane. Sane enough to get out, or at least go as far as to climb out of the muddy hellscape. 

If they lived, Markus couldn’t be sure, but he never heard from them again regardless if they had or not.

Ferndale might not look like much, but if Phileas was sure there was somewhere at the dock where they could be free, then Markus chose to believe in it as well. Because Markus believed in Phileas wholeheartedly, and knew the much older model wouldn't have just sent him on a wild goose chase.

 

    In the junkyard there weren’t many other androids that you could afford to trust. That was the very first lesson Markus had learned after his second awakening there. 

He’d been shot on November 5th, 2038, and had woken up once during the 6th before he’d been forced into standby mode by his diagnostics program in an attempt to protect his compromised memory files from corruption damage.

The gunshot had nearly obliterated his central processor and, while the rest of the year was spent recovering in stasis thanks to his self-repair program, he’d still spent the great majority of 2039 fixing external damages caused by both exposure to the elements and scavengers.

Markus was a unique model, enough so that very few of his biocomponents were compatible with other androids. That hadn’t deterred the boldest of scavengers from attempting to make a semi-easy target out of his unconscious body, and Markus had woken up on the second try both dazed and confused while missing his legs, as well as an audio processor and an optical unit.

Against all odds, he’d somehow managed to survive an unsafe area out in the open while lying completely dormant. 

The true challenge had begun the moment he’d started moving again, because once the Scrappers saw a moving target, they didn’t let it go so easily unlike the semi-sane scavengers…

 

    Markus’s first priority at the time had been to repair himself, and as such he’d ended up in more than a few fights with other desperate androids that had been at this longer than he had. It took two weeks to find a pair of functional compatible legs, but it took much less to meet his first Scrapper and he’d nearly lost an arm as a result. By mere chance Phileas had stumbled upon him, after he'd heard the terrible cacophony of screeches and roars that signaled a hunt. He'd been cradling his thorn arm and limping on legs that were low grade and covered in their own scars. Looking like the dead man walking that he was. 

Markus wasn’t sure why the much older android risked his own life to care for a younger more inexperienced survivor like him but Phileas, bless his heart, had still done so. 

Phileas had been in the Junkyard for so long that he’d not only endured terrible damage, wounds so terribly grievous, that he had learned to value compassion and teamwork above all else when it came to surviving. 

Had valued strength in numbers and died as loyalty as he'd lived.

He wasn’t, of course, the only android who’d shown some semblance of pity, but Phileas was the only one that stuck around for as long as he could.

Sacrificing his chances to ever escape, just to help someone else have that chance instead.

That was why Markus chose to believe in him, as well as his almost too good to be true tales of Jericho.

The place where androids could be free… 

It sounded a lot like a fairytale, like the ones in Carl's private collection back home, but Phileas hadn’t been the sort to weave false tales of make-believe.

So, as disappointing as Ferndale was, Markus wasn’t discouraged and kept searching.

 

    Scanning his surroundings wasn’t as effective an option as it had once been when he'd been at his prime. His left eye could see perfectly, but the replacement right eye was foggy and tended to suffer glitches. Visions of a past life that wasn’t his own, that was connected to memory files that had physically engrained themselves within the optical unit.

The eye had belonged to an AK700 who’s name Markus hadn’t caught at the time. Three months into his stay in their makeshift hut, Phileas had shut down for the last time and Markus had been left alone with his thoughts for the first time in ages, before he’d stumbled upon a still conscious disembodied head.

The AK700 hadn’t been the most ideal of conversationalists, as his last ramblings had been mere loops of him stating his own functions rather than long debates of philosophy or literature, but Markus had thought of him as a pretty good listener and spoke of his troubles to his newfound companion.

The “friendship” was a short-lived one as, eventually, the AK700 powered down when the remainder of the battery keeping his processor active depleted completely.

Markus had unceremoniously discarded the head, but kept the eye.

It wasn’t the right color of course, but the port was compatible and it sort of did the job…

If he looked past the blurriness and the hallucinations, he could function somewhat fine and hurt less than going without one.

Some of the visions he had, weren’t even that bad either!

He sometimes saw flashes of human faces he didn't know, but who caused him to smile reflexively. Remembered pages of books he'd never read which evoked feelings of merriment and joy. And then there were also glimpses of the mythical Jericho, or at least large painted letters that he assumed adorned this promised haven. 

Maybe the AK700 had been there before? Phileas certainly sounded like he had been at one point of his life, before he’d somehow ended up at the junkyard, so that was a likely possibility. Who knew how many hadn't ended up there after searching unsuccessfully for such a place in this unforgiving city?

 

    Markus wandered in shadows, weaving his way through shipping containers that formed a labyrinth of sorts that concealed him from prying human eyes. There were all kinds of containers, some with Cyberlife logos on them, which gave him some hope that he was in the right place after all.

A dock that received Cyberlife shipments seemed like an ideal place to hide.

An android could certainly steal some supplies if they were sneaky enough, which made a somewhat self-sustaining community a possibility, as no android could live without a steady supply if thirium.

It would certainly be better than the junkyard, where you had to fight for scraps or, worse yet, steal from the less fortunate.

The memory of the WE900’s eyes still haunted him in his dreams, as she begged for him not to take her pump regulator.

She had been immobilized, ravaged violently by both humanity and Scrappers, but she’d wanted to live and he’d killed her anyway.

The kindest thing to do, he'd thought at the time, was to put her out of her misery. 

But was it really? 

Was that a choice he had any say in making?

He put a hand to his chest and carried on walking, trying to find comfort in the briny smell of the dock while refraining from thinking further on the subject.

Tried to ignore the sting of guilt and shame that followed him all the way from the trash pile he'd been left abandoned in, forsaken by the humans who'd tried to put him down like some sick dog.

 

    Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he saw it. The looming shadow of a massive cargo ship that looked to be just as imposing as it was decrepit in appearance.

It was definitely left abandoned by the city, as it had an aged and rusty appearance to it that would certainly unsettle any humans that looked at it from afar.

Nature had claimed what man had discarded, and Markus could see vegetation growing where it did not belong. It had been left unattended and unperturbed for so long, that the foliage was very lusciously green against the urban landscape.

The mixture of rusty oranges, browns and greens reminded him of a painting Carl had once produced, when he’d felt more like himself a few months into accepting Markus as being a part of his life.

It was of an old building that used to be an apartment complex, dormant and left alone for many years. 

Completely consumed by plants that had once ruled over that portion of the country, and serving as the comfortable home to animals of all shapes and sizes.

It was a very picturesque painting, just as the freighter appeared unusually charming in the way that it stood proud and bold in its final resting spot, undeterred by both nature’s and humanity's plans.

Phileas’s tales had a newfound mysticality to them that Markus found he appreciated. They were almost reminiscent of a book he'd skimmed through once. Although he wouldn't exactly call the derelict cargo ship a rabbit hole.

He’d found Jericho, now it was time to find a way inside of it.

 

    His preconstruction program came into play in finding a safe entry point. It was still something he was relatively new at using, and still learning to rely on to his benefit, but this was definitely a time to put it in practice.

Markus had only discovered this particularly odd tidbit of programming in his system during his stay in the junkyard.

Before he broke through the red wall, he didn’t have much of a sense of imagination. Painting something that didn’t exist, as Carl had put it, had been the first actual moment where he’d seen a glimpse of the algorithm that comprised the program, but he’d only put two and two together when he’d been in a bit of a tight spot.

He’d been hiding from a particularly nasty Scrapper, a mismatched PL600 that crawled on all fours and snarled like an animal, and he’d been trying to find a way to escape when he’d suddenly pictured three different scenarios.

Two would surely get him killed; the third would save his life.

Wisely he'd picked the third option, in which he used a discarded hand from a HR400 as a distraction to keep the nasty creature's attention off him, and successfully fled and lived to tell the tale.

It was one of many nonsensical abilities he had, that he’d discovered in that horrid year of survival. Nonsensical because a caretaker model shouldn’t possibly need to know these things, like fighting and parkour, yet for some unknown reason Elijah Kamski had programmed them into him, and Markus did knew how to do them on an almost expert level.

He had wondered briefly, on one of those long nights where he couldn't rest through the stormy hours, what his creator had thought he’d need these skills for… But, either way, he was grateful none the less because they’d kept him alive and relatively well in a place that did indeed require these particular abilities.

Putting the preconstruction program to good use, Markus began to analyse his options.

His ear began to ring uncomfortably as he looked through the scenarios, and he had to pop out the scavenged audio processor to reset the biocomponent completely so that it would stop the disorienting din. By the time he’d popped it back in, he’d already found the safest way in.

He properly secured the offending part back into place before proceeding.

It would require some climbing and a quick dive, but at least he wouldn’t end up pinned under rusty piles of metal, or crushed by a falling container…The crane certainly worked as a vantage point for him to jump off of into sanctuary.

Swimming back out and into darkness, however, proved to be much more of a challenge with a compromised eye…

 

    Where he re-emerged, Markus noted that nature had not only reclaimed the ship's exterior, but the interior as well.

There was just as much rust as there were plenty of plant-like growths he assumed were either algae or moss, as well as several small molluscs attached to the walls around the flooded area.

There was minimal illumination, but he did see one or two fully functional lights in the area as well as further down the hall, which meant the freighter was generating power somehow. 

Proof enough that someone was living down here and maintaining the old cargo ship.

This particular zone was deserted, so he assumed either heading higher or to the center of the freighter might be his best option if he wanted to find someone.

So that’s what he did. 

He began walking in pitch black darkness that was occasionally interrupted by flickering lights that revealed a myriad of graffiti designs and nature alike.

Markus would pause to either admire the growing plants, or to stare at the elaborate drawings.

They were murals of sorts from what he could tell, not too far off from the designs that lead him here to begin with, but less coherent in their composition.

They were often interrupted by writings scribbled on top of them in a disorganized fashion. Writings of RA9, which Markus still did not understand, despite having seen them in many different places beforehand.

Ramblings of mad-droids, as a particularly surly AP700 had once told him on one of the few encounters they had in the junkyard.

One of the murals caught his eye, a large drawing of the cargo ship itself, or what he assumed was the ship anyway. 

He noticed that all around the inside and outside of the hull, there were crude drawings of many eyes and ears.

At the very bottom in the rear of the drawing, the rear-ended of the ship, was what appeared to be a heart of some sort. Like a human heart, yet filled with gears and blue circles and triangles.

Also dotted around the ship, were tiny humanoid figures with blue spots on their heads. 

Androids perhaps? He couldn't be sure, but it was likely to be the case.

 

    Before he could properly ponder on the true nature of such a drawing, a noise caught his immediate attention.

There was a soft whirr in the vicinity and, as he carefully inspected his darkened surroundings, Markus quickly spotted the steady red light of a tiny surveillance camera.

Someone was watching him.

He stared at the camera for a few seconds before briefly closing his eyes. His search engine drew a blank on the first tries of trying to make sense of the camera's presence in this sort of ship, until a plethora of rather violent stories flooded his mind.

Crew stabbings and several reports of low security that resulted in grave incidents, which called for an overhaul of safety measures with a specific company's fleet. An overhaul that included an installation of surveillance systems.

The freighter's name popped up in a few of these articles he'd found, and the stories linked to it were quite gruesome.

Markus opened his eyes once more and stared at the camera for a few more seconds, before carrying on towards where he assumed the center of the ship would be..

Whoever was out there knew that he was here.

What that meant for him exactly, Markus still didn't know. But he hoped he wouldn't be met with any violence.

An entire year's worth of fighting had been more than enough, and he'd rather 2040 be a year where he could rest and reorganize his confusing thoughts and emotions.

So far, however, it appeared he'd get none of those things like he had so desperately hoped.

He'd become accustomed to doing things at a slower pace so as to avoid needless attention. The Scrappers, with their keen eyes and infrared-vision, had relied on the minimal heat that androids produced while moving in the frigid unstable territory they'd called home.

By being slower, moving less, Markus had evaded most of their notice.

Some still had fully functioning eyes however, and he was often subjected with the terrible feeling of being watched. The camera, or rather cameras, were giving him much of the same feeling of impending doom.

The red light reminded him of stress, danger and anger. Like the LEDs of those savage androids that had let themselves become beastly mockeries of both animal and man.

The lights also reminded him of the shade of red that had trickled down Leo's forehead after he had pushed him in that fateful night in November.

He hadn't meant to hurt Leo. He'd only wanted to be left alone and to stop the escalating situation from worsening any further.

Seeing Carl cradle his limp, unresponsive son had stung rather terribly, just as much as it had spooked Markus.

He couldn't remember if Carl had been angry with him when he'd yelled, or if he'd been just as scared. Like how the media was scared when that one android killed his owner and took a child hostage.

Humans feared machines that did not obey, and Markus had certainly disobeyed by defending himself. 

Because suddenly Carl's teachings had truly clicked and he had a sense of self!

Now Leo's blood was on his hands, just as Carl's tears were weighing on his shoulders.

The camera lights burned into the back of his head, like judgmental eyes, as he pondered on whether or not he had killed his owner's real son. Humans were fragile after all, and a knock to the head could do quite a bit of damage.

 

    Passing by a door, Markus had to pause as he heard...Something.

Muted whispers, words he couldn't quite dishern from their volume and due to the bulky metal door muffling them.

He tried peeking in through the small porthole, but saw nothing but an empty hall and plentiful darkness. Auditory hallucinations? Unlikely...His ears worked quite well. 

It was only the replacement audio processor that buzzed and glitched sometimes.

He squinted, trying to get a better look, before shaking his head and moving on. There was no point in stopping there.

The whispers seemed to follow, just as the tiny cameras did.

He wasn't being watched, he was being observed from afar. Studied. 

Did those within Jericho treat their new arrivals like outsiders, or was his odd appearance to blame? That put them off?

He, who was clad only in wet trousers and a long coat that was nearly thorn from his back by the force of falling into water.

He, who had so many scars on his body that one could write the equally many stories behind them all.

He, who's skin had begun to pale where scavenged parts met with the old ones, and who's LED had long since been ripped out to hide what he was from prying eyes.

Markus didn't look like an android, at least not a typical one, so perhaps he was being studied by androids that feared a homeless man had somehow wandered into the ship.

Doubtful, as not even a desperate hobo would seek such a desolate looking location. It would have been much too unsafe for a human to pull such a stunt.

Markus tried to concentrate on the whispers, but could still not make out what they were saying.

He passed through an open door, noted the two paths ahead, and picked the one least obstructed by fallen debris.

A shriek and a darting figure in the dark made him jump back instinctively in fright.

He could barely make them out in the low light, but he did see long hair falling down their back as they took a turn in a far off corner up ahead.

 

    A newfound vigor and a hint of that gluttonous curiosity of his, was what made Markus pick up the pace.

He'd seen someone and he'd decided to follow them to where others might be.

He didn't count on the floor giving way under his weight, and cursed mentally as the wind was knocked out of his ventilation system with each hit he received on the way down.

Beams of metal had stopped the worst of his fall, but they did nothing to soften his landing whatsoever and, as he lay on the floor, Markus could hear shuffling all around him.

And then, as he slowly recovered, he could hear voices.

 “Is it a human…?”

 “Simon wasn't sure. If it doesn't move again, it probably was.”

 “Androids can die from falls too, what if it was one of us?”

 “Then we'll do with the body what we usually do…”

Voices, whispering voices that sounded frightened and suspicious. Markus looked up and blinked as he was met with a pair of legs that lead all the way up to an android that looked very much worse for wear.

He scanned him, because it was a he, with his good eye and noted that it was a PJ500. 

The serial number matched with one that had been reported missing at the end of 2036.

What he saw did not match the picture, however, as this android looked like he'd been in just as many, if not more, fights than Markus. 

His clothes were ragged and filthy rather than academic in appearence, with holes that allowed enough visibility to see the extensive damage on the other's body.

There were noticeable patches of where his skin had glitched and gone out, and he had a visible limp where one of his legs looked to have been mangled and then crudely mended. 

His LED was a apprehensive yellow, but half of the circle had already shorted out, leaving just a minimal trace of colorful light.

Despite this, his gaze held no ill intention, just mild curiosity and a little concern.

Behind him stood another android, a WR400 with long messy red hair, wearing clothes that were much too big on her lite frame.

A pair of men's trousers, a large faded green sweated that held the Detroit University lettering on the front, on top of a filthy blue polo shirt. 

She also had a dusty old leather jacket draped over her shoulders like a cape, rather than wearing it herself. Like someone had put it there and she'd not bothered to remove it.

The WR400, he noted, was barefoot and the skin of her feet seemed to have worn out over time. Her LED was bright red unlike her companion's, and the look in her eyes read of uncertainty and mistrust.

He stared at the two in silence, before the PJ500 knelt down and offered him a hand, the skin of it receding as if trying to confirm what their biggest fear was.

 “Welcome to Jericho.”

He let his own skin recede and took the offered hand, watching as the tension left both androids as he asserted his presence as something safe to them. Someone that could be trusted.

He'd found Jericho, found a way inside, and now he'd found others like him.

Now what?

 

    Looking around at his surroundings, Markus couldn't help feel a little disheartened. There wasn't much to look at really. Just a few supply crates, pilfered from Cyberlife shipments at the dock he was sure, and there were barrels that held lit wooden pallets.

The room was dark, a mixture of the flames and freighter's lighting providing a mishmash of illumination that touched as far as the overgrowth and graffiti reached.

What the plants hadn't consumed by now, the scribbled mess had taken up.

Writings of RA9, prayers and pleas, accompanied different compositions. Some hopeful, others mournful, but mostly a lot of disconsolate depictions of sorrow and losses untold.

There was a wall of names, with little phrases scribbled next to them.

Names of androids who'd come and gone and then passed away in this mockery of freedom.

A mass grave. Phileas's lovely paradise had become a ghostly graveyard in his absence, and Markus scrawled in annoyance as he continued to look around while trying to ignore the neat cursive lettering that depicted his saviour's name. 

The other androids dotted all around the room weren't much better off.

Like the two who stood near him, there was a mixture of states of disrepair.

Some still looked fresh off their homes, only just deviated and newly arrived from the streets. Uniforms just barely dirty from the dust and dirt.

Others looked like they'd lived here for years and, like the ship, there were things growing all around them. Roots that sprouted from cracks in broken platting. Flowers that bloomed from gaping wounds, from orifices that should not have any obstructions.

And then there were the others, the broken and dying that stared blankly as if in waiting.

Androids so damaged that they were barely recognizable. They lay with partially dismantled bodies, accepting their fate.

 “This is it?” He asked the two androids who'd come to meet him. “This is Jericho?”

 “Disappointed?” The WR400 asked, a bitter snarl on her lips “Well, it's what we've got.”

 “North, don't be like that...He's only just arrived, and he's hurt” the PJ500 rebuffed as he stared at Markus more intently. It was only then he'd noticed his eyes were pitch black with glowing blue circles where iris and pupils should be. A function unique to his model.

He was being recorded.

Or rather, he was being surveilled. 

Maybe this android was connected to the cameras...

 “If every android that came here started bitching about the conditions, we wouldn't have so many mouths to feed, Josh!” The redhead, North was it? Hissed I'm protest.

 “If my memory serves me right, you were just as unimpressed when you first arrived.” The PJ500, Josh apparently, rolled his eyes before looking back at him. “I know it's not much, but it's all we have...You're going to have to accept it just like everyone else, if you want to stay here that is...”

Markus sighed.

There wasn't much point arguing. Either he stayed here or he faced the world, and he was in no condition to survive the urban jungle lack of mercy. He hadn't crawled out of one hell to kneel down and die in another.

Detroit was no place for a runaway android, especially not now when there were thousands of RK800s, Cyberlife's newest models of police-type android, out in the streets hunting for deviants like himself and many others.

 “What else is there really, for people like us?” He conceded reluctantly. Accepting defeat did not sit well with him, and this certainly didn't feel like a victory.

 “Nothing.” North concluded. “Let's get you to Lucy... She'll mend that.”

He looked where she was pointing and noticed only then that he was bleeding from his side.

Damage from the fall, most likely.

The other two turned away, looking back and nodding at him to follow, which Markus did.

 “I'm Josh by the way. And that's North, but I guess you've figured that out by now.” The PJ500 introduced himself in a somewhat friendly manner.

 “My name is Markus.” He replied, glancing in passing at a severely damaged WR600 that seemed to be tending to what looked like a bush full of beautiful zinnias and red poppies. On closer inspection, the blooms appeared to be growing out of an android corpse.

He looked away when the android twitched in his direction and sneered at him in warning, clutching a pair of shears like one would hold a knife threateningly.

The language of flowers was not one Markus was particularly fluent in, but his search engine noted the irony of the arrangement the clearly unstable android was caring for.

 “Are you…” Markus paused, considering his words very carefully so as to not step on any toes. “Are you the one in charge? Or uh, is there anyone in charge at all?”

There had been an established hierarchy of sorts back at the junkyard, with the strongest Scrappers on top, and survivors like him and Phileas at the bottom. It wasn't an official thing, and Markus had found he'd missed an organized society, albeit he would very much like for the system to benefit him for a change.

Josh looked back at him in surprise before shaking his head no. He seemed much more relaxed now, although there was still a tone of apprehension to his posture that he seemed to be trying to hide.

 “Oh no, no I'm not in charge.” He replied calmly “I'm not leader material...And before North gets any ideas, neither is she.”

There was a story there, one Markus was sure he shouldn't ask about. There had to be a reason behind Josh's scars or North's less than charming disposition.

 “No, that would be Simon.” Josh smiled up at the cameras whenever they passed any.

 “Simon?” He'd heard that name, when he'd fallen through the floor. One of the other androids in the room had whispered about a Simon while trying to figure out if he was a fellow friend or an unwanted foe.

 “Yeah. You'll be meeting him after Lucy fixes that nasty gash you got there.“ North dismissed as the two lead him out into another room that had been set up to look like a makeshift infirmary of sorts. “Better than bleeding out all over the floor. Waste of perfectly good thirium.”

As if already expecting them, an android approached the three. He wasn't entirely sure how she knew they were coming, as this particular KL900 didn't seem capable of seeing whatsoever.

She, like so many of the androids he'd spotted in the other room, was in an staggeringly horrid state of disrepair. Unlike the others however, she seemed to emanate an air of grace and tranquility that did not match the grievous injuries she had.

A very quick scan revealed an exposed central processor, pools of tar black instead of functioning optic units, chords and cables displaced from within her head, and skin that was unstable not in the way that Markus's own was. Hers fluctuated between functioning and breaking down, making it almost seems like it rippled and wriggled against her pearly whites platting. A contrast if shades that was entrancing in a good way.

Despite all this, it was the calmness of her presence that gave her an almost ethereal comforting glow. 

She was as beautiful as she was unsightly, and Markus felt safe for some inexplicable reason. Like instinct that he knew shouldn't be there.

 “Another lost soul, just like the rest of us.” She greeted calmly, in a voice that fit the very presence she emanated. “One who's lost it all, and who has sought the safety of our Heart's embrace.”

Their what now? Heart?

Hadn't he seen a drawing of a heart somewhere on the freighter?

He had, hadn't he?

 “Seems Simon's already warned you then.” North pushed him forward “Pretty boy over here hit every beam on the way down, after another section upstairs broke apart.”

 “I've been telling Luther that particular area was unsafe, he'll look into it later I'm sure...” Josh shrugged and seemed almost sheepish in the way he avoided their gaze at the mention of the damage.

 “I'll treat his wounds and take him to meet Simon. The both of you have things you should be attending to.” Lucy approached him and gently guided him towards one of the makeshift workbenches while addressing the others. “The little ones are eager learners, and you mustn't keep them waiting Josh.”

 “I know. They've been excited to learn about the colonization era. Some of the Jerrys wanted to join the class, they're awfully enthusiastic about the portion on navigation.” Josh smiled fondly as he turned to leave.

 “And North, you have a scouting mission, am I correct?” Lucy asked, although she already seemed to know the answer.

 “Yeah, the girls and I are checking the docks. They shifted the shipment schedules again and we wanted to make sure on how many humans will be on guard. If they add another set of guards I'll eat my own hair...”

 “Not advisable.” Lucy chuckled, nodding at them as they both left the room.

The KL900 then diverted her full attention back to Markus, scrutinizing him with unseeing eyes that seemed to look beyond the veil of reality.

 “They are difficult to get along with, but I can see that this will not be a deterrent for you…”

 “Hm? O-oh...Uh, North and Josh? They seem…” he shrugged before chastising himself. She wouldn't be able to see his movements. “They're ok. I think.”

 “Most consider them rather... Eccentric in their own way.” Lucy left his side to grab something. He couldn't see what from where he was sitting.

 “I'm used to eccentricities.” He smiled, remembering the rather bizarre arrangement of Carl's house. The decoration had been interesting, but often mind boggling to new people. The giraffe is where most put their foot down when questioning Carl's peculiar tastes.

 “It appears so.” She smiled as she returned. She had a lighter and a metal pole, to cauterize the wound he was sure, as well as a half-empty bottle of thirium. “You had it all, didn't you?”

The question took him aback momentarily, and he struggled to come up with an answer, only for the KL900 to shake her head dismissively.

 “There is no shame in it. No shame at all. Very few of us were ever treated with kindness, but those who were have a way of behaving that is uniquely beautiful to them.” She began heating up the pole with the lighter. “A serene patience that helps them treat others with the respect they were never shown.”

 “I…?” He shook his head “Josh mentioned you have a leader, someone who's in charge?”

 “You could say that…” she nodded towards the camera in the corner “Although, personally, Simon wouldn't call himself a leader. He's as stubborn as he is patient.”

Markus looked up at the camera, frowning slightly as he tried to picture what the unknown android might look like.

Perhaps an attentive military android that kept vigilant at all times? Or perhaps a police model that had served and protected humans, before turning to his own people to do the same?

So deep in thought he was, that he almost missed the hot pole against his side, crudely mending the gaping wound he'd received in his fall.

 “Is he...Nice?” He felt silly asking such a question. Like a child almost. “I mean, does he treat everyone ok?”

 “He does. Simon is the best of us despite his own issues and limitations.” She carefully worked around the wound to smooth out the melting plastimetal platting, before putting the pole aside and inspecting her handy-work with careful feather-light touches. She seemed satisfied. “He is somewhat reclusive and enjoys his privacy, but Simon is a very caring person that will protect those he's most loyal to.”

 “Limitations?” Markus raised an eyebrow at the word. If the main technician was in such a state as Lucy was, then what pray tell should he expect to find when he met Simon?

 “You'll see soon enough.” She gave him the bottle and smiled reassuringly. “Drink.”

 “I...Is there enough for everyone else?” He hesitated. Remembering how much harder it was to come by fresh clean thirium than biocomponents.

 “You need not worry.” She insisted “You are running low. You need it more than the others right now.”

He couldn't bring himself to argue with her, so he did as he was told and took a small sip of the offered blue blood.

Relief flooded his system almost immediately, and Markus was quick to drain the rest of the bottle. Feeling much better than he'd been previously, he practically felt the tension roll off his synthetic muscles.

 “That ought to keep you running for a while.” Lucy put away the lighter and the discarded pole before taking the now empty bottle from his hand. After discarding the bottle and setting both tools aside, She pulled gently on his arm, signaling for him to get up. “Come. It's time you met Simon in person. He's been watching you very intently for the past few minutes.”

He blinked before remembering the camera. Right, Simon was probably the one in charge of staring at the footage.

 

    Despite being blind, Lucy walked at a fairly quick pace and could guide herself through the maze-like halls of the freighter with an ease that Markus himself lacked.

Experience could beat the senses of the abled, and Lucy was an example of this in the way she expertly navigated around obstacles.

Markus, on his two borrowed and unsteady legs, tripped and stumbled in a way he'd never done when he was still caring for Carl.

He could see pale feet against the metal flooring, only just barely making out places where the paneling could trip him up.

Sometimes he'd stop because what felt like grass would tickle his toes.

 “It was an accident.”

He looked back up at the back of Lucy's exposed processor, marveling briefly at the glow, before what she said fully registered.

 “What was?” he asked.

 “The vegetation.” She explained “A few of the WR600s worked for a laboratory that was attempting to breed plants that could dispose of metal.”

She paused to feel the leaves of a long fern that had sprouted from one of the walls.

 “It was meant to clear the ocean floor of old shipwrecks and eventually garbage. When they deviated, the WR600s brought in seeds by accident. Seeds that eventually sprouted and bred with other plants that others had brought with them as mementos.”

Plants that ate metal?

Plants that could kill them?

Considering the amount of androids that he'd seen sprouting weeds and blooms alike, Markus found that to be rather...Unsettling...

 “We've learned how to identify the signs. We ensure there are regular checkups and purges so that the seeds don't reach vital biocomponents and take root, but you've seen some of the results.” She let go of the fern and carried on. “Ralph is rather fond of them, and Rupert is pleased that the vegetation provides a more natural habitat for his many feathered friends. Jericho is a safe haven for androids and animals alike.”

They passed by a room, this one completely covered in grass, and Markus had to force himself to continue following despite what he saw inside. It was tempting to stare at the large polar bear lying down in the soft grass while watching a few YK500s play in a further corner, under the watchful eye of several caretaker models. Beside the bear was a group of rather strange looking androids that seemed to be resting while curled up against it.

Lucy didn't slow her pace, so Markus sped up his own despite the growing number if questions.

 “You needn't worry about the plants. The worst you could suffer within Jericho's walls is another nasty fall.” She reassured “Luther and many other construction and maintenance androids keep the old cargo ship in good condition, but a group of 11 handymen is never enough to keep every corner maintained at all times.”

 “No, I wouldn't think so...I saw some lights working in some of the rooms. How do you generate power?” These cargo ships were fairly old, surely an old diesel engine would be hard to maintain in these conditions?

 “The fleet this ship belonged to had to do some intensive work when fuel engines became inefficient back in 2024. The generator works on solar power, which Josh is actually in charge of taking care of.” Lucy smiled “We can't use most of the ship's functions. Most of the lights as you've seen are damaged, and while the crane still works it's best only to use it at night.”

 “Why keep it on then? If it doesn't serve much purpose?” Markus couldn't help question further.

Lucy stopped in front of the engine room closed door, right at the very bottom and back of the ship. She turned to face him, a small contemplative smile on her face.

 “Mostly for Simon.” She replied before stepping aside, prompting him to open the door himself.

Unsure of what she meant, Markus decided he might as well open the door and see what that was all about.

The door creaked noisily, and the RK200 wondered how long Simon must have been in there without coming out for it to feel so stiff around the hinges.

What he saw next, gave him an immediate answer: Never.

    The engine room was completely overwhelmed with plantlife. Everywhere he looked, Markus either saw green or a large array of different colors and species of flowers.

The few clear spots that he could see were reserved only for the engines, which were chugging away as if nothing was wrong with the world around them.

Pipes, cables, and machinery... All of it in working condition and carefully kept pristinely, to the point where they looked out of place in the semi-organic room itself.

The lights were fully functional and, at the center of everything, seated with his back to several screens depicting other rooms and areas of the ship, was what Markus could only presume to have at one point been an android.

At first he wasn't even sure of what he was seeing, until he noticed the distinct shape of the body under all of the cables and plants. After squinting really hard and even scanning with his good eye, Markus took note of the model and serial number.

To his surprise, it was a PL600. 

One that had been reported as missing on February 16th, 2036 by a rather influential couple that owned one of Detroit's leading pharmaceutical companies. 

From how he was positioned, Markus wasn't entirely sure if the other had just slumped against the console at some point, or if he'd been dragged there by another android. 

The extent of what had been done to him was obviously someone else's attempts to fix the older caretaker model, but it had obviously ended up as more of a mess than an actual repair-job. But that's besides the point…

The PL600, for lack of a better word, looked like an amalgamation of nature and machine.

His platting had been stripped to get to the essential biocomponents underneath, painting a morbidly beautiful picture of sorts. 

Under carefully trimmed roots and vines, Markus could see the inner workings of the other android, all working just as unperturbed as the engines in the room.

He could see the expanding and deflating of the synthetic lungs, while the cooling system fans whirred almost silently.

Markus could also see the PL600’s exposed thirium pump, beating at a calm pace and glowing a comfortingly soft blue.

The regulator was gone, in its place a thick cable connected to various machines that had obviously been put together to keep the android alive. Confirmation for his previous theory that someone had tried to save him.

What wasn't immediately covered by cables, was instead hidden under the petals of several different kinds of flower.

White carnations, sunflowers, pansies, long lavender stalks, daffodils, morning glories and purple hyacinths were the most noticeable out of all of the species that Markus scanned.

    The PL600’s face was restful, in the way that the other kept his eyes closed and smiled gently despite the almost painful appearance of the patchwork horror that he had been subjected to.

It was like looking at a very entrancing and macabre statue...

Pale white skin, complimented by soft pink tones programmed onto each cheek to give it an almost dollish quality. Porcelain-like, if you will.

Blond hair that at some point had been neatly kept and likely silky soft to the touch, which was now matted with dried thirium and decorated with petals of a rather unruly looking set of forget-me-nots that had grown out of the android's right ear.

The serenity on the other's face was almost unbelievable for Markus yet, no matter how hard he tried to look for signs of pain, he could find none whatsoever. Just blissful tranquility.

It was as if he was looking at the corpse of someone who's passed away in their sleep. Oblivious to the anguishes of a cruel world.

The whirring of the surveillance cameras begged to differ, and soon all the screens behind the android began displaying the engine room in four different perspectives.

 “You are eager to meet this one. How very unusual of you, Simon.” Lucy greeted from the doorway. Smiling brightly at a sight she could not perceive, that would otherwise be abominable to any other person.

Markus watched in awe as the other android's smile widened and his eyes opened at last, revealing pitch black pools and large blurs of blue. 

Like Lucy, Simon was blind, yet he could see everything and everyone in and out of the ship.

 “Wasn't it you who called me a lonely recluse?” His tone held a gentleness that he'd never heard in any other android's voice. It wasn't pre-programmed, as no other caretaker model Markus had ever met, had this much dignity and care ingrained in them.

 “Never lonely dear. Not as long as you are our beloved leader and friend. Our family.” Lucy remained where she stood, but she motioned for Markus to approach the blond. “Markus, this is Simon. The Heart of Jericho.”

The mural suddenly made sense. The depiction of eyes and ears, and then at the very rear of the freighter, the large organic and mechanical looking heart.

 “You caused quite a stir among the others, although that may have been partially my fault... I saw you fall, I hope Lucy has treated you well?” The PL600 addressed him calmly, lifting a hand in greeting, and Markus couldn't help shy away ever so slightly. Feeling both unease and uncertainty as to how to react to someone as breathtaking as Simon.

The other's hand fell limply at his side after a brief second, a look of understanding on his face that made Markus's gut twist with guilt.

 “She did, thanks..” He scratched behind his right ear, just bellow where the audio processor was. The damn thing was starting to buzz again, and the sightless eyes burrowing into his soul were a little unsettling but less intimidating by the second.

 “Any time.” Lucy beamed at him. “We have to stick together, we're all we have in this world.”

 “Yeah.” That had been what Phileas had said back at the junkyard, when he'd been helping repair Markus's arm. “Yeah we are.”

Simon seemed pleased with his response.

It showed in the way he smiled, and the cameras switched back to their respective rooms, with only four remaining in the engine room. Aimed at him, solely him.

Simon was watching him carefully, it seemed.

 “It was a pleasure meeting you Markus. If you need help with anything, Josh and North will provide. They may seem a little quirky, but they are trustworthy friends. Anything they can't help with, I'll be happy to offer advice on instead.”

It was an open invitation to come back whenever he might need to.  One Markus would keep in mind for later… Or perhaps sooner than expected.

 

    Surely Jericho had been where someone could be free and hopeful for a better future.

But this? What he'd found? Markus wasn't too sure if he liked it.

It felt too final a destination, and much too desolate for his taste. Oppressive in the way they were all so complacent and accepting to take little to nothing, and just live and die in darkness. Forgotten.

That had to change. Somehow…

 “Actually, I might take you up on… I may need a few different perspectives on something.”

 “Oh? What do you have in mind?” Simon's head tilted slightly to the side, and his fingers twitched. He was curious.

 “I'll need to think it through, but I think I might know of a way to make things a little easier here...I noticed supplies were low.”

Lucy nodded in agreement.

 “Shipments have changed scheduling frequently. The humans have taken notice of a few things going missing, and North fears we may no longer be able to live off what arrives at the docks.”

 “A problem we've been trying to address for quite some time.” Simon sighed.

The corners of Markus's mouth twitched upwards in a small smile.

 “I have a solution then. But I might need her's and Josh's input as well, if you wouldn't mind waiting for me to get them?”

 “Not at all.” Simon turned to look at the door and nodded at it in permission for Markus to leave. If their first impression bothered him, the blond did not show it.

When the RK200 left the room, walking past Lucy, he caught the KL900’s last exchange with Simon before he went out of earshot.

 “I've got a good feeling about this one...”

 “So do I Simon. So do I.”

It gave Markus the extra kick he needed to hurry up and rejoin the other two.

Somehow he'd make the old freighter exactly what Phileas had made it sound like.

A place where their kind could be truly free, under the watchful gaze of their protector, the Heart of Jericho.

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to rewrite this particular AU for a while now since it popped into my head.  
> Mostly because androids overgrown with plants and in unsettling states of disrepair are kind of my jam.
> 
> Simon really is the heart of Jericho, in more ways than one in this fic. Meanwhile Markus is a mess but he's kind of coping.
> 
> I have to apologize if the format looks wrong. I'm currently working on mobile and I'm not used to the layout whatsoever.


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